Immolation
by ByAppointmentOnly
Summary: A Vietnam veteran comes to the town of Silent Hill in 1981 to find a young girl who haunts his dreams. In his journey for answers he crosses paths a man who is looking for his lost daughter who bears a startling resemblance of the girl he is looking for.


A blue 1975 Ford Taunus barreled down the two lane road as it's engine coughed underneath the hood. It had been almost an hour since Allan had seen another car on the road which made him weary. It was dark and incredibly foggy for a winter night. His main fear was that his car would break down on this shoulderless road and his vehicle would be shrouded in fog at the mercy of oncoming traffic. But it was less than 30 miles to his destination and it wasn't like he had anywhere to pull over and wait out the fog; so he drove on, not stopping until he reached his destination.

He began to ponder the strange dreams that drove him to this town. It had been two months since the dreams started, the dreams that compelled Allen to come to this town. It was always the same, every night. Allen would find himself in bed, unable to move due to the shackles on his hands and feet. He was on a cement floor, surrounded by figures looming over him. He couldn't make out any features of these people aside from the outline of robed figures. Strange chants and incantations filled the room while a pain in his body grew worse and worse until he let out a terrible scream. At this point he would hear an explosion and see a bright flash from next to him. In an instant the room was ablaze while the robed figures began to scramble for an exit. At this point he feels an intense pain as his body is immolated while he can do nothing but scream for help. He then looks over to see a young girl in a blue dress next to him, untouched by the blaze. Her blue eyes stare back at him as he blacks out. When he wakes up Allen is in a hospital bed in a dark room, probably a basement, hooked up to various IVs and machines. In the corner sits the same brown haired girl from the fire, sitting in a wheelchair facing away from him. She walks over to his bed and whispers in his ear, "Find me…" That's usually when it ends. But two nights ago something changed. Right before he woke up, the girl placed something on his chest. Upon waking up, Allen found an address written on a piece of paper. 1137 Simmons St. Silent Hill, ME.

He snapped out of his daze, jarred by the sudden return to reality. He looked over at the picture on his dashboard. It was an older photo of him and his sister. It was right before his first tour in 67'. He wore his Navy dress whites while his sister wore a green sundress. She always said that he looked like the ice cream man in that uniform. That memory caused a subtle smile to creep across his lips. He was only 18 at the time and Jackie had just turned 11. They both smiled in the photo but their eyes where wracked with a solemn understanding as he remembered how sad they both were. His sister was so proud of him, her hero. He had promised his sister that he would tell her stories of his travels at sea, but he knew that he would be seeing very little of the ocean. His eyes then turned to his unit insignia. 2nd battalion, 5th Marines. Underneath the emblem was the unit motto, "_Retreat Hell". _The emblem always served to ease his mind whenever he felt overwhelmed, like some sort of security blanket. His gaze snapped back to the road. He was jarred to realize that the empty road was now populated by storefronts and street lights which seemed to leer at him with accusatory eyes. He had not realized it, but he was in Silent Hill already.

The streets were empty but that was to be expected, after all it was quarter past one in the morning. The empty streets did not bother him but the fog did. The town was shrouded in such a thick fog that he could not see more than 15 yards ahead of him. Through the fog he could make out the outline of what seemed to be a convenience store. Allen figured it would be a good place to pull over to get his bearings so he pulled into the parking lot, turned his engine off and gathered his coat, wallet and keys. He opened the door to the convenience store expecting a typical scene of a suspicious clerk eyeing up a stranger who stumbles into the store in the wee hours of the morning but what he found was much more unnerving. The store was dimly lit as only a few low watt light bulbs flickered in their sockets. The store was devoid of people though it seemed as though nothing was out of place. What scared Allen was the smeared trail of blood in the last isle which led to the restroom which emitted a familiar stench of putrefaction and maggots. He decided it was best to go back to his car and retrieve his Colt 1911 from the glove compartment and his flashlight from the truck before investigating any further into the store. He had barely noticed but the store's radio which would no doubt play annoying smooth jazz on a normal day was now emitting a strange, screeching static; an all together different noise than ordinary static. Dismissing it as little more than a technical problem or interference he turned toward the exit. As he started back toward the front of the store he heard the front window shatter.

Before he could react he was attacked by what he could only assume was a dog. The canine bit into his left arm for only a second before he grabbed a broom handle to bludgeon the animal. With a swift hack at the creature's neck the broom handle snapped but it was with enough force to break the beast's hold on his arm. Without hesitation he plunged the jagged handle through the dog's chest, effectively killing it. Before he examined the dead beast he headed back to his car to retrieve a more viable weapon. As he reached his car he quickly opened the glove compartment to retrieve his handgun. It was nothing special, steel with a wood handle. He always kept it loaded; seven .45 ACP rounds, more than enough to bring down most living thing. He quickly shut the passenger side door and went to the trunk. He quickly applied antiseptic and bandages to the wound inflicted by the dog before stuffing the pockets of his brown workman's jacket with two additional clips for his handgun. Finally, he grabbed his flashlight from the back seat of his car before reentering the store.

His thoughts turned first to the bathroom. He approached the door cautiously with his pistol in his right hand, flashlight in his left. He kept his finger on the trigger guard, if someone was here he didn't want to get spooked and wound or kill an innocent person but he was prepared for another attack. He let the light dangle from his wrist on it's strap while he checked the door handle. It was locked but had no keyhole which made him feel even tenser. He could hear an almost deafening buzz on the other side of the door. Whatever was behind that door, it was most certainly rotting. He brought the flashlight back into his hand and gave the door a swift kick sending it flying open. A swarm of flies rushed through the open door as the startled man squinted his eyes to try and make out the scene in the bathroom. From what he could make out through the haze of insects was quite nauseating. The walls were coated with a brown and yellow film which he assumed to be water damage. The stalls and sinks were infested with hundreds of roaches which scattered as the beam of light from his flashlight shone on them. The most grizzly sight however was the stall which was a host of maggots which seemed to cover a vaguely human outline. Allen quickly exited the room and shut the door over before he vomiting in the mop bucket right outside the door. Whoever that body in the stall was, he was certainly dead for an extended period of time.

His thoughts quickly turned to the dog corpse lying in front of the counter. As he knelt down to examine the dead creature he felt a chill down his spine. The skin was sickly and covered in sores. It's paws were large but with it's emaciated frame they seemed even larger. It seemed like a normal dog though he didn't know which breed. The only thing that was odd was it's blood. It was thicker than it should have been. He was no veterinarian but he figured dog blood was the same as human blood, at least in the sense that it shouldn't coagulate until after death. This seemed frightened him but he had more pressing matters to attend to. He quickly turned his attention to the phone which was mounted behind the counter. Allen quickly lifted the phone to his ear while simultaneously dialing 9-1-1. But he was greeted with nothing, just a sickening silence. The silence seemed made the situation seem all too desolate. No sound, not even the buzzing of the flies or the static of the radio, just silence. Allen knew it was time to leave.

Allen quickly inserted the key into the ignition and tried to start his engine. The only sound was the screeching of a stalling engine. Without hesitation he grabbed his gun, flashlight, the photo of him and his sister and his unit insignia. He stuffed the photo and insignia in his back pocket with his wallet. He then opened the trunk to retrieve his backpack and another five clips for his firearm. Holstering the weapon and stuffing the extra ammunition in his jacket pocket he proceeded to load up on what he figured he would need. "_First aid kit? Check_." Allen thought to himself not quite knowing what to expect. "Flashlight?" he fumbled as he stuffed the cumbersome torch in the side loop of his backpack. "_Check. Pistol?"_ his hands fell to his holster. "_Check. Knife?"_ He reached into the trunk pulling out a small utility knife and stuffing it in his pocket. Not much for combat, but a great for 1000 other tasks. "_Check. Picture? Wallet? Smokes? Keys?" _ Allen gave himself one last pat down to be sure he had everything he needed. "Alright… Good to go I guess?" he whispered with a slight tremble in his voice. The last thing he did before setting out into the fog was grab the small map of the town and his sketch book sitting on his passenger seat . Reaching the police station was first on his list.

Allen's mind raced. Who is this girl that haunts his dreams? What awaited him at 1137 Simmons Street? What _really_ happened at that convenience store? Why was he drawn to this town? For what purpose? He had a grim feeling that all of his questions would be answered, but that only served to make him more nervous as he ventured into the depths of the fog.


End file.
